hands
by lilfruitloop
Summary: this is basically 1000 words of glorified flowery sensory details


Vlad never laid a hand on him. It was an unspoken rule- Danny was allowed to touch, to run his hands through Vlad's silver hair, to rub his palms along the stubble on Vlad's chin, to trace the subtle lines on Vlad's face. It was a privilege he abused greedily and with abandon, and one which was never, ever reciprocated. Vlad did not lay a hand on him.

It was a while before Danny caught on, so wrapped up in his own selfish sensations. At first he was afraid to ask. Vlad seemed willing, but what if this passivity was indicative of hesitation? What if he was doing something wrong? He forgot his reservations when he was touching Vlad, and didn't remember until afterwards when his lips were the only things tingling, and the rest of his skin was lonely and itching for an affectionate hand. He wanted to feel wanted, and kissing wasn't enough anymore.

Danny finally broached the subject. He had to be careful, had to sit on his own hands until he'd asked what he wanted to know. That didn't stop him from leaning closer though, and before he knew it, his head was resting on Vlad's shoulder. It made it easier, as he wouldn't get distracted by Vlad's face this way. "Vlad, why don't you touch me?" Please, he wanted to add, please please touch me.

He watches Vlad's hands, knotted in his lap, watches the tendons in the back of his hands as they flex into fists. "Oh, I want to," he says, and Danny can hear the truth there, and feels it thrill through his whole body.

He presses closer so Vlad can feel the thrill too, but all he feels from Vlad is a thudding, stuttering heartbeat. Danny can't resist any longer and reaches over, sliding his fingers over the back of Vlad's hands, and slowly up to his wrists. Vlad makes a pleased sound.

Danny smirks into Vlad's shoulder and moves his hand down into Vlad's so easily, and it fits perfectly. It's only a hand, it's only a hand to hold, and Danny knows logically that it isn't very much different from any other hand in the world. Except that it is. Vlad moves his thumb along Danny's palm and squeezes gently and the weight of the movement settles onto the both of them, the heavyness of meaning and inevitable promise.

"Daniel," Vlad's voice is uneven, trembling. "We shouldn't." Danny doesn't answer, just follows his hand's lead and climbs into Vlad's lap.

He lifts Vlad's hands and puts them on his shoulders, sighing into the contact, and Vlad is looking down and leans his forehead into Danny's chest.

"Daniel, please."

Danny can feel Vlad's hands shift against the material of his shirt but it doesn't feel like anything-he was expecting more than this, he is trying his hardest not to be disappointed, but if their hands can fit so perfectly then surely-

Vlad is processing, he knows. It is important to be patient with Vlad, and ease him into things. It had taken months to kiss him and it was worth the wait but this was just not anything like Danny expected.

He presses a chaste kiss to the top of Vlad's head and grabs hold of his hands again. Perhaps if he just finds the right place for them...

Danny shimmies out from under Vlad's arms and Vlad lets them fall. He's not trying at all yet and they both know it, but Danny is determined. He will not give up so easily.

He grasps a wrist and holds one of Vlad's hands against his side, pressing into it so hard that he can imagine those fingers fitting like puzzle pieces into the gaps between his ribs.

Nothing happens.

Danny is waiting for something he doesn't even know and it's not happening.

"Please," he chokes out, mumbling into Vlad's hair. "Vlad, I need you to. I want you to." And all he can think is please, please, please.

It's been so long; it's been too long, the minutes are starting to weigh and in the same second Danny is about to give up, Vlad shifts imperceptibly and using only the communication of desire they synchronize. Danny melts into a touch that has suddenly burst into flames along his side and presses his own fingertips into the hollows in Vlad's collarbone as Vlad slowly, reverently traces every centimeter resting underneath his palms. He groans and Danny feels it all the way through his chest.

"Wow," Danny murmurs, and it is an understatement of the highest degree.

He presses gentle kisses to Vlad's temple because that's the most he can manage, as Vlad's hands slowly, tantalizingly move down and around his waist, his fingers making smooth, gentle circles the whole time.

In every movement, Danny can feel the control: Vlad is tempering himself, he realizes, and realizes also that Vlad has been holding himself back this whole time. The self-control he has been exerting is unthinkable to Danny, who is always, always reaching towards the things he wants. Even if it is the smallest steps, he is always selfishly grabbing them up. A heady feeling of exhilaration makes him stomach flip when he thinks that yes, it was him. He made this happen; he alone could break through the barricaded gates of Vlad's self control... and his triumph is cut short as Vlad suddenly pulls him closer.

Vlad's arm wraps around him and his hand presses into the small of Danny's back and all of a sudden their chests are pressed together.

Vlad lifts his head, and Danny sees his face for the first time since he's put his hands on him and he almost looks like he's going to cry. But only for a moment, because Danny is leaning forward and kissing him, twisting his hands into Vlad's suit and pushing his tongue into his mouth and Vlad just reaches up and cups his hand around the back of Danny's neck, the pressure so gentle but forceful.

Danny could break away at any time but he feels so secure. He feels like he's just where he needs to be, because Vlad's arms are around him and his hands are on him and he fits in this space like a glove. Everything Vlad does is so attuned to him, as if he is the only thing in the universe that matters, and it's addicting. He can feel himself getting addicted to the feeling as it happens, even as he pulls away.

Even as he pulls away, Vlad's hands follow him, slowly and hesitantly but with purpose, drawn to him as if following an invisible wire.

Please, he thinks, as Vlad's fingers tremble along the curve of his jaw, please touch me.


End file.
